


Litany.

by Geek_in_progress



Series: We'll Build Our Altar Here. [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), After mary, Alternate Universe - No Baby, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anilingus, Bisexual John Watson, Blasphemy in word usage only they don't actually do anything blasphemous, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Boyfriends, Captain John Watson In The Bedroom, Caring John, Coming Out, Consent, Cuddling & Snuggling, Declarations Of Love, Dom John Watson, Endearments, Feelings, Fellatio, First Kiss, Frottage, Gay Sherlock, Hand Jobs, Holding Hands, Intercrural Sex, John manhandles Sherlock, John's Huge Dick, John's Inner Monologue, Kissing, Love Bites, M/M, Marking, Moving In Together, New Relationship, PWP, Patient John, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Sherlock Has A Lisp Sometimes, Sherlock's First Time, Sherlock's penis is longer than average, Sherlock's thoughts, Shmoop, Shy Sherlock, Slow Burn, Spooning, Sub Sherlock Holmes, They both swallow, Top John Watson, Uncut John, Uncut Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Vulnerable Sherlock, coming out in public, if you're looking for small Sherlock you won't find him here, light pda, new experiences, virginlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-23 11:23:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 11,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11988795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geek_in_progress/pseuds/Geek_in_progress
Summary: Litanylit·a·ny/ˈlitnē/nounInvocation, supplication, devotion.Sherlock (and John) have a series of new experiences.





	1. A Litany of Love.

It's after Mary, after all the death and the grief. The harsh words and forgiveness. They're home again. Home again. John's finally home again. It's after a case, and they're both high on adrenaline and humor. Bass rumble and lilting giggle. The ease of their renewed camaraderie. It's all a bit intoxicating, like a shot of whiskey, a nicotine patch on pale skin.

They've collapsed into respective chairs. “ Sher...”, john pants out, fresh their run. “That was. Amazing, Love. Brilliant.” Just like you, he thinks, and doesn't notice his slip of the tongue.

But Sherlock notices. He always notices when it comes to john. Wait no, maybe not, what? Love? Surely he didn't. Couldn't. Wouldn't. Pause, rewind, replay.

John notices Sherlock is frozen, blinking, and what is that about?

 _Yes, he did_ , Sherlock thinks, wonderingly.

 _What happened, did I do something not on?_ John queries himself. _What did I? Wait. Was that out loud? Shit._

Sherlock comes out of, back into himself, back into the conversation, just as John starts to apologize, “Sherlock...”

Sherlock lunges forward to kneel on the floor in front of john, looking intently into john's eyes. “Love. You said...you called...Love.” Sherlock stumbles slightly over the words, voice high in shock, eyes wide.

 _Shit fuck damn bloody shit bollocks_ “...Yeah. I did,” John cringes, waiting for the pick apart, rapid deduction. He's not ready when Sherlock sits back onto his heals and … melts. His face does this shift and it's all soft and glowing, and hopeful, and somehow familiar... Oh. The plane. That's how he looked. That's. “I'm a cock,” he hears himself saying, because he's just realized that somehow, Sherlock. Feels. The. Same. Way. Or close to it.

He drops down onto the floor in the little space Sherlock left in kneel in. “Sher”

“John,” and now it's all bass rumble and amazement.

“Sherlock Holmes,” deep breath, “I love you” And if his voice cracks a bit on the start, well. This is Sherlock. And he's finally getting to say what he's felt, what he wanted to say, for so long.

John asks, “How long...?” He needs to know how long he's been a fool. But Sherlock just shakes his head and clears his throat, and John realizes he's trying not to cry. So John does the only thing in his brain, something he's wanted to do for so long, and gently takes Sherlock's head in his hands. Sherlock's head is canting, cheek pressing against one palm, and there are the tears. Then, Sherlock is somehow in John's lap, head on John's good shoulder. A muffled, “Love you, too,” against John's neck. Sherlock is grabbing the back of John's jumper, John's hands rub Sherlock's back. They're both crying now. Sherlock is near silent, shoulders shaking slightly under john's palms. John cries with little huffs, the occasional sniffle. He shushes words of comfort, and litany of “Love”.

This, this is perfect, this is right. John has the feeling that somehow, everything is going to be all right.


	2. A Litany of Adoration.

It's a week after The Words were spoken. They're in a cab coming back from a case. Sherlock's just said something to make John giggle, which makes him chuckle in turn. He looks away from the window where he's been watching the city go by. John is gazing at him with what Sherlock can only now know is love. It makes his breath catch and his heart skip. He looks down and sees that their hands are very close on the seat. He stretches out his little finger, just a bit, just enough to touch John's. John looks down, too, and moves his own little finger to cover Sherlock's. Then, very slowly, he turns Sherlock's willing hand over, so that Sherlock's palm is facing up. Gently, John covers it with his own. Almost as one, they curl their fingers, and they're holding hands properly now. Sherlock looks up to john's face, to find that John is already there, watching back. Sherlock's heart is beating a quick litany of adoration for this amazing man beside him, holding him with just that small touch. They spend the rest of the cab ride that way, palm to palm, anchored with love.


	3. A Litany of Joy.

It starts out with longing and glances. The first time it happens, they're in the kitchen, and Sherlock starts it with a Look. He's been in a mood all day,something John can't figure out. Then John catches The Look, a strange amalgam of blazing intensity, softness, desire, and a little pucker of the lips. Add that to the wide pupils and sped up breath, and somehow John knows surely as if he hears the words. Sherlock wants a kiss.

 

They've yet to do that, declarations have been made, hands held, but. Well. There was a little time needed to process on both their parts. To try to figure out this new thing, and who they are to each other in this new light of that change.

 

John crowds up in Sherlock's space, just far enough away for Sherlock to pull back, pull away, say no. But Sherlock takes the tiniest step forward, and inclines his head just so.

 

"Sher, Love. Is this what you want? Do you want me to kiss you?" John asks.

 

Sherlock nods, barely breathing and waits. Then John is backing him into the wall, one hand steady on his hip, one gentle on his face. Sherlock bends his head down slightly, and John pushes his up, and it's happening. John's firm warm lips against his soft plushy ones. It's teasing and perfect and suddenly Sherlock can't get enough air. But he cant, he won't pull away, so he just pants through his now open mouth again John's lips. John's mouth opens, and their breath is mingling and it makes Sherlock dizzy, how intimate it is. How close John is to him in all ways at this moment. Then john's tongue is flicking against Sherlock's lower lip and wow. Sherlock moans a little. John takes this as in encouragement. "Open for me, Love?" he raps, voice gone to his lower register. So Sherlock does. And now they're kissing in earnest, tongue against tongue, lips smooshed together, braking only to breathe each other in. _This is the best thing,_ Sherlock thinks distantly, before they're back at it.

 

Just when Sherlock thinks his week knees will give out, John notices his shaking. Grabbing Sherlock like they're dancing, he leads him to the couch, steps in-between kissing light, almost closed mouthed kisses. Then couch cushions are against Sherlock's legs. John sits and Sherlock, eager for more, scrambles into john's lap. Their mouths come together again, an john is giggling, a litany of joy against Sherlock's lips. Sherlock chuckles back a little, but want is flooding through him, so he stops. John, brilliant john, takes the hint and then it's back to tongue pressing to tongue. They kiss for what seems like forever, John leading them from gentle to searching to gentle over and over again.

 

It's Sherlock who pulls away first. John almost chases him, but something tells him to ask first. "Sher? Everything all right?" Sherlock nods, hair mussed, lips dusky and slightly swollen, color high, pupils wide. He takes a deep shuddering breath, and says, "I just. It's so much and I. Want..." When he doesn't go on, John nods encouragingly, brushes an errant curl out of Sherlock's face.

 

"What do you want, Love?"

 

"I don't know. Too much."

 

John frowns a little, thinking. Looks down and sees Sherlock's erection. "You mean what you want is too much?" he asks. Sherlock nods, cheeks coloring a bit redder. "You're not ready for what you want?" John guesses. Relieved that John understands what he can't articulate, Sherlock nods so hard his curls bounce slightly.

 

"Alright. We won't do anything you're not ready for. Do you want to keep kissing? Or is that also too much?" John inquires.

 

Sherlock thinks for a moment and nods, saying quickly, "I like it. Very much so, it's just... It's making me want things..." He runs out of words.

 

John smiles. I'd like to sit here by you. Is that alright?" Sherlock looks relieved, "Yes, John. That would be perfectly 'alright'."

 

 _Well, if he has his words back, I think it's going to be alright now,_ John thinks.

 

Sherlock disengages with only a little difficulty, settling in properly on the couch. John mimics him, until they're side by side. Sherlock scoots down a bit to be even with John. He leans his head on John's good shoulder, and almost shyly puts his hand out, palm up. John smiles fondly, and covers Sherlock's hand with his own...

 


	4. A Litany of Words.

After their first kiss, Sherlock and John sit and talk awhile. Emboldened by John's earlier display of gentle caring, and after the word-taking rush of the kissing itself, Sherlock reveals that he's a virgin. John hastens to reassure Sherlock that there is nothing wrong with that, and that they will only do what he wants, when he wants. Sherlock languidly waves that away, saying "I know it's alright, and you've already demonstrated restraint." Then he pauses. "It's just. You aren't."

 

Now, John sees the problem. "Hmm. Well, you know I'm not good at this sort of thing, talking." Pause. But I _am_ a bit new to this, I mean, I haven't had any experience with...men. Not for lack of want, just..." Pause "...I don't see any difference between this and any other relationship. Just maybe we'll go a bit slower than some" Pause. "You're important to me, Sherlock, this..." he gestures his free hand to encompass their togetherness, "...is important to me, Love." He takes and lets out a breath. _There_ , he thinks, _that wasn't half bad to say it out-loud. I must be getting better at this._

Sherlock tightens his fingers around John's hand. _Actually, I think John's getting better at this talking thing. Better than I seem to be at the moment._ Out-loud he says, "Thank you, John...I love you." Saying I love you is still new enough that he is a bit shy to say it. He's still used to before, when he thought he would only ever get to think it. He's shy to say many things to John. But he'll find his way

 

Satisfied with John's reaction, Sherlock changes the subject. John goes with it, not wanting to push. There's time for all they need to talk about, after all. They sit, talking for awhile, before parting to putter their separate, but close, ways around the flat. When John announces he's going to bed, Sherlock grabs his hand, and shyly presents his cheek for a kiss. Charmed by this endearing gesture, John gladly does as hinted.

 

 

_*_

 

Lying in bed that night, John can't sleep. He's tired, and happy, but his mind keeps going round. He doesn't have mature experience with someone new to sex. Only early mutual fumbling when he and his partner both were. He fears he may push Sherlock, or that Sherlock will push himself on John's behalf. That John may make a mistake and hurt Sherlock, ruin this wonderful new thing they have. He resolves to query Sherlock as to what he's done by himself as soon as he can work it into conversation. And looking up some things on the internet seems like a good idea. Progress, made, John's mind finally quiets, and he's able to sleep, and dream of soft and urgent kisses.

 

*

 

While Sherlock is out the next day, John sets to work. A few key words and lots of clicking links later, John has some ideas. He's learned of "Safe and Consensual", safe-words, slow-words, the need to keep checking in with your partner for consent and what they want. He thinks about it for awhile.

 

*

 

A few nights later, they're sitting on the couch watching telly. John's arm around his shoulder, Sherlock slouches by increments, until his head is in John's lap. John's hand finds his hair, gently rubbing the tips of his fingers in tiny circles on Sherlock's scalp. Sherlock sighs in contentment. After a bit of that, when Sherlock is nice and relaxed, John starts talking. Armed with his new found information, he talks, a litany of words. Of his fears and how they led him to research. Of what he found. When he runs out of words, there's a lull.

 

Then, Sherlock shifts a bit to look into john's eyes and says, "Kingfisher"

 

"Huh?" John asks eloquently, confused at the non sequitur.

 

"That'll be my safe-word."

 

"Oh. Well then. Right." John smiles a goofy grin down at Sherlock, whose return smile is soft and unsure. "When did you...?" John trails off.

 

"Erm, just now. While you were talking." Sherlock replies.

 

John's smile widens, "'Kingfisher' it is. What's your slow-word, then?"

 

Sherlock barely has to think before he replies, "Magpie" John giggles, "So you're saying birds don't do it for you."

 

"Well, I am gay."

 

John sobers, "You know, I thought..."

 

"What, John?"

 

"You and Irene. You were upset after..."

 

Sherlock takes a breath before explaining, "It was you I was upset about."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

Sherlock looks down, and says the next bit in a small voice, "I followed you to the warehouse. I heard you. You said "not gay". You sounded angry about it, just like you always did."

 

 _Oh. Shit_. "Sherlock, Love, I'm so sorry. When I said earlier that I'm a cock, I meant it. I was so sure you didn't fancy me. I was so afraid you'd find out how I felt about you and. Yeah. So I denied that side of me, hid behind saying 'I'm not gay', so no one would find out that I was sometimes attracted to men. That I was attracted to you." Time for John's voice to go small when he finishes, "That I loved you."

 

Sherlock looks back up, into John's eyes, love and wonder shining through. "You asked how long," he says but doesn't go on.

 

"I did," John waits to see if this is going to go anywhere.

 

"I think." Sherlock says slowly, "I think it was how you reacted to my deductions about you. I think that was the start." Now he has to fight not to look away again, when he says, "I knew I was, I knew I'd fallen in love when you showed up in the bomb at the pool. When did you?"

 

"Hoo, well. We have some things in common here. I fancied you almost from the beginning. But I think, It must've been when I was given my cane after we ran across London. I wanted to kiss you then, you know. I was breathless with more than running, I think. You were laughing, and all I could think about was pressing into up against the wall and kissing you. But, back to your question, I think when I realized that I was in love with you was when the sniper dots appeared on you at the pool. That scared me more than being in that bomb did."

 

Sherlock laughs ruefully.

 

John joins in saying, "We're a mess you and I."

 

Sherlock rumbles, "Not any more I hope."

 

"No, not anymore," John agrees. "There _is_ something I would like to know though, Love, that we haven't talked about. We don't need to right now, we can wait. It's just. I don't know what you have done. By yourself, I mean..."

 

Sherlock turns around until his face is nearly buried in John's stomach. John huffs out a breath and waits to see what Sherlock with say, if he will say anything at all, if he will change the subject.

 

When Sherlock does start to talk, it's muffled against John's stomach. "I've wanked. And I've...used..my fingers..."

 

After a pause when John figures Sherlock is done talking he says, "Thank you, Love. So I assume that means you know what you like? That you can guide me? That is of course, if you liked it? The wanking, and the...fingers?"

 

Sherlock nods as much as he's able to, still smooshed into John's midsection.

 

"Sher, Love, was that a yes to all of that, or just part."

 

"Allofit," Sherlocks rushes out.

 

John starts to slowly pet down the back of Sherlock's head, and repeats, "Thank you, Love."

 

Before long, Sherlock relaxes into the touch. A bit later John realizes Sherlock's fallen asleep. John says there, petting Sherlock's hair. Smiling, he turns his attention back to the telly.

 


	5. A Litany of Giggles.

They get to the nearly-naked stage pretty quickly. They'd been up for 44 hours on a case. Afterward, a four hour nap later, a groggy Sherlock forgets his trousers, and comes to breakfast in just his shirt and pants. When John raises his eyes from the paper and notices, he does that thing where he raises his eyebrows by lowering his hairline. It takes a minute for Sherlock to figure out why. When he finally cottons on, he blushes from the top of his shirt to the tips of his ears. John dissolves in a litany of giggles then, and breaks the spell. Sherlock is soon chuckling along, embarrassment receding, and reaches for his cup.


	6. A Litany of Moans.

The first time John kisses his neck, Sherlock nearly comes in his pants.

They're on the couch. Sherlock's already abandoned his trousers on the floor. Is in shirt and pants, sitting astride John's still pyjama-clad lap. Sherlock likes to feel John's dick under his bum.

They've been kissing for a while, when Sherlock tips his face against John's mouth so that John is kissing his jaw. Sherlock sighs and shifts again, so that John's next kiss goes on his neck under the side of his jaw. John cottons on, shifts his hold on Sherlock's head, and kisses down the line Sherlock has started for him. Sherlock is breathing heavy already just from closed, and partly open mouth kisses. When John reaches Sherlock's jugular, he licks hard against the vein. Sherlock shudders and moans. John's had enough experience with kissing Sherlock to wonder if his sensitivity is present in any sexual situation. Evidence is piling up to the affirmative, here.

He's thought about this, but Sherlock is already more expressive than in John's meager fantasies.

John starts back up on Sherlock's jaw, just in front of the ear, on the sternocleidomastoid muscle, and lightly sucks. Sherlock moans again, and bucks a little in John's lap. John alternates open mouth kisses, laving tongue, and gentle sucks. Sherlock is soon shuddering, grasping at John's back and thrusting a bit in a drunken rhythm. Just when Sherlock's litany of moans almost became continuous, he gasps out "Kingfisher."

John immediately stops and pulls away slightly, steadying Sherlock as he rocks a little in John's embrace. Sherlock quickly continues, each word punctuated with a shuddering breath, "It. was. so. much. I. nearly. came."

Sherlock leans his forehead on John's good shoulder waits to calm a bit before he says "I want to though. Here, now. Just not like that."

Voice husky, John asks, "How, Love? How do you want to come?"

"I want you to...your hand. On my dick. Please?"

Sherlock's just demonstrated his willingness to use his safe-word, so John simply asks, "Like this? Or do you want to lay down?"

Sherlock mumbles something. John doesn't catch it, so he asks, "What was that, Love?"

"Like this. I want, I like the feel of your dick under me," he reiterates shyly.

"Alright. We should use slick, do you have any?" John asks.

"In my room, don't move." Sherlock orders, and reluctantly peels himself off of John.

"And damp flannels, please," John hollars at his retreting form.

...


	7. A Litany of Glorification.

When Sherlock gets back, he stops before John, slick and flannels in hand, looking a bit lost as to how to proceed.

Do you want to take off your pants?" John suggests.

Relieved at John taking the initiative, Sherlock slowly takes off his shirt, and shyly, his pants, letting them both drop onto the floor. This is the first time John's seen Sherlock naked since they've been in a relationship. He takes his time starting his gaze at Sherlock's face, silently asking if it's ok to look. When Sherlock nods, John does. His gaze washes over slightly heaving chest, down taut stomach, and finally, to Sherlock's erection.

"Love," he breathes, looking back at Sherlock's face. "You're beautiful. Simply stunning."

Sherlock blushes a bit, cheeks and ears and chest. Embarrassment and arousal. Awkwardly hands John the flannels and slick. John puts them to the side. He looks back at Sherlock, who is nearly vibrating with need. So he leans back in invitation, and suggests "C'mere?"

Sherlock eagerly settles himself in John's lap, John's clothed dick nestled in his crease. John's turn to shudder out a breath.

John takes Sherlock's head in his hands, kissing him. It starts out gentle, but Sherlock ramps up the intensity, until it's passionate, needy. He pulls away to gasp, "Now. Please."

John moves a hand to Sherlock's back. John nods, asks, "Can you tell me how you want to be touched?" Sherlock inhales sharply before shaking his head, frustration creasing the top of his nose at the way words are failing him now.

"Alright then, Love. Can you show me?"

Sherlock nods. He waits till John slicks up his own palm, and leads it to his erection. John closes over his hand over Sherlock's shaft gently, waiting. Sherlock squeezes John's hand for a bit more of pressure, and starts to move it. It's a slow, gentle pull at first, but before long, it has Sherlock huffing breaths into the still room.

Just that for a bit, then, on the upswing, Sherlock raises John's first to rub the tip of his precome laden dick. That makes Sherlock exclaim, "Oh!" so John does it again. Sherlock speeds up John's hand slightly, then let's go. "Just." pant, pant, "Do that again." John does, rubbing Sherlock's glans with the soft part in the center of his palm.

With no further prompting by Sherlock, John keeps up a pace of soft pulling a few times, then rubbing Sherlock's glans. It's smearing together slick and Sherlock's precome, smooth and sticky under John's hand.

John's arousal presses up into Sherlock's cleft. Sherlock, moaning and panting, starts to rub his ass over John's dick in a rhythm matching John's hand. John huffs out a breath, so turned on it hurts.

Sherlock gasps, "Tighter. John. Oh, John. Faster." John closes his fist a little an speeds up.

By now Sherlock's head is thrown back, heaving chest glistening with sweat. Arms thrown around John, holding his self steady.

"Sher," John rasps, "Love. When you're close...I want to see. Your face, when you come."

Sherlock shudders and nods.

It's not long before Sherlock tips his head up and speaks. "John" he says urgently, "I'm going to come." John squeezes just a little more pressure, pumping twice before rubbing the top of Sherlock's erection.

Sherlock practically yells, "JOHN! I'M COMING! JOHHHHHHN! John stops pulling, and simply holds Sherlock's dick, letting Sherlock's bucking hips thrust it through John's hand. Then Sherlock is gasping for breath, hands fisted in back of John's shirt as the orgasm spins through him. He stills, breath frozen, then slumps into John, lungs bellowing, head rushing with static and light. John steadies Sherlock with the hand on Sherlock's back. Carefully, he let's go of Sherlock's penis and wipes his hand on a flannel.

Sherlock's brain comes online piece of piece. By now his breathing is slowed at almost normal. John is holding him upright with one hand, rubbing his back with the other. Shushing meaningless words. No, not meaningless. Sherlock picks up his shortened name, the endearment "Love." And more. "...did so well, gorgeous, so proud of you..." A litany of glorification.

Sherlock's heartbeat throws it's rhythm for a moment. Beautiful, stunning, gorgeous. _That's really what John thinks of me?_ He wonders. He trusts John not to lie, but still. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think John would feel that way.

Sherlock's emotional guard is now down from the stunning orgasm he just had. He's faintly embarrassed to feel his eyes sting from tears starting.

John hears Sherlock's breath catch, so he asks, "You alright, Love?"

Sherlock's voice comes out think and wobbly when he replies, "Yes."

"Do you need anything?" John asks.

Sherlock wavers out, "Hold me?"

John assures him, "Always, Love, always."

*

Once Sherlock has composed himself, he lets John clean him up with the clean flannels. Sherlock gets up on shaking legs. He puts out his hand, and John eagerly takes it, hairline lowering in inquiry. Sherlock answers by tugging on John's hand until he's standing. Sherlock looks down at their joined hands, asks uncertainly, "Come to bed? I'd like to sleep by you, if that's alright?." John grins wildly, says, "Gladly." They make their way down the hall, palm to palm.

...


	8. Litany of Breaths.

Sherlock, still naked, draws down the bed covers and crawls in. He looks at John, face soft and still a little flushed. John goes around to the other side of bed and gets in. He watches Sherlock turn to face him, uncertainty in his eyes.

"I've never done this before", he rumbles. 

"Well, do you want to face me, lay side by side, or do you want to spoon?" John asks.

"Spoon?" Sherlock inquires.

John thinks about how to describe it, slowly explains, "It's where one person, the big spoon, lays along the back of the other, who becomes the little spoon. The big spoon usually holds the little spoon."

"Ah. Yes. That sounds good," Sherlock says.

"Alright then, do you want me to be the big spoon?" John guesses.

Sherlock says hestitantly, "If you don't mind."

John grins, "I'd like that."

Sherlock smiles back, rolls over, and waits. John scoots up until his body is flush with Sherlock's. He says, "Lift up your head." Sherlock does, so John puts his right arm under it. He drapes his left arm over Sherlock's ribs. Sherlock wiggles a bit to settle in. When Sherlock is done, John finds his hands, and covers them with his own. Sherlock sighs, contented, and closes his eyes.

Sherlock falls asleep first. John listens to Sherlock's litany of breaths even out to soft snores, and smiles again. Not long after, he joins Sherlock in slumber.

...


	9. Breath Gasping A Litany.

The next morning, the first thing John notices is Sherlock is still or again in his arms, but a bit farther away, and looking at him. John smiles lazily, says "Morning."

 

"Morning, John," Sherlock grins crookedly back.

  
John starts to stretch at bit, and the second thing he notices is Sherlock's erection as it brushes his. Sherlock gasps, eyes going wide. Then his smile becomes even, curling at the corners, and he looks at if he just discovered something wonderful.

 

John giggles out, "Yeah we can do that sometime if you want."

 

Sherlock lights up even more, asks eagerly, "Can we do that now, John? I want you to...come, too, this time."

 

John's voice is suddenly husky as he says "Yes, Love, we can definitely do that now."

 

"How do we..." Sherlock trails off.

 

"Well, first we get the slick..." John watches conflicting emotions flit across Sherlock's face. He clearly doesn't want to move, but even more, he wants to continue on this new adventure.

 

Finally, Sherlock makes up his mind. He rolls over to get up, exclaiming, "Be right back!"

 

John giggles at his nude retreating form, pert bum and all.

 

Sherlock comes back, he crawls back into bed, and nestles back where he was. "Now what?"

 

"Open that for me, would you?" He asks, pointing to the slick in Sherlock's hand. Sherlock quickly does as John asked. John puts out a hand: Sherlock gets the hint and drips some slick onto it. When John then reaches down to gently grasp them both, Sherlock gasps a little at the touch.

 

John starts out a slow pull with soft pressure, just enough to keep them in contact with each other.  Soon he finds a gentle rhythm that has Sherlock huffing out breaths.

 

 

Just when John starts to find the softness of the motion unpleasantly teasing, Sherlock pants out, "John. More?" In answer, John increases the pressure slightly, and speeds up. Sherlock starts squirming and making little sighing “Ah” noises.

 

 

Soon, John starts to need more pressure, more speed, more something, but Sherlock, breathing heavily, manages, “I want...harder John...” So John grips their erections in in a steady hand and pulls a bit harder, finding the sweet spot of pressure. Sherlock closes his eyes and arches his neck. Just a bit of that increased pressure has Sherlock trembling, moaning after every inhale.

 

 

 

Not long after that and Sherlock hips start to move in an unconscious motion. John stops pumping his arm, instead moving his own hips to Sherlock's rhythm.

 

Sherlock has one arm curled into his own chest, one over John's arm, splayed forcefully on John's back. Overcome in the moment, Sherlock inches a leg over John's for more leverage and starts to thrust in earnest into John's hand.

 

Once again, John matches Sherlock's movements. Sherlock's hand on John's back now grips, nails curling into flesh, as Sherlock flounders in sensation.

 

Suddenly, Sherlock moans John's name loudly, eyes flying open. His eyes meet Johns, and he stills as he orgasms, breath gasping a litany.

 

The sight of Sherlock coming undone has the air leaving John's lungs as he follows after.

 

*

 

John waits for Sherlock's body to soften and relax, his breath to even, before he moves to get up for flannels. His name, softly spoken, stops him. Sherlock is looking at him, eyes focused again. “I'll clean up this time,” he rumbles. John lets him, watches as Sherlock tries and fails to get up. Sherlock makes an “Ooof” noise as his bum falls back onto the bed.

 

“Love,” John starts, but Sherlock cuts him off, “I've got this. I'm just...” He tries again, makes it to standing, and totters on long shaky legs to the loo.

 

*

 

Used flannels safely thrown in the direction of the hamper, Sherlock crawls back to where John is now sitting and plops down by him. Both smiling goofily, they link hands. John starts to talk about what he's going to do that day. Sherlock interjects, they go back and forth, and it's business as usual.

 


	10. A Litany of Looks.

It's dinner time at 221B. They've been mostly silent, after the long day. Sherlock is staring at John, take away box and chop sticks gone still in his usually animated hands. John, tired and oblivious, keeps on eating.

“John...” Sherlock starts hesitantly, eyes now on his rice, “I'd like, that is if you want...” 

John looks up and prompts, “Yes, Love?”

All in a rush, words run together, Sherlock says, “I'dlikeyoutomoveinwithme.” 

Confused, John starts to say, “I already live here.” He gets as far as, “I...” before his fatigued brain figures out that Sherlock meant his room, not the flat. 

Sherlock takes John pause as him trying to figure out a way to say no. Crestfallen, he starts, “If you don't want-” 

John interrupts enthusiastically, “-I'd love to.”

Sherlock stops talking, mouth still open and looks at John. “You would?” 

John smiles a quiet smile, full of love and says gently, “Of course I would, Sherlock.”

Sherlock shyly smiles back, lips curling in little swirls at the corners. They stay like that for a couple minutes, a litany of looks. Finally, Sherlock lifts his chopsticks and grabs a bite out of John's carton. John giggles, and goes back to eating, this time around a grin that won't go away.


	11. John's Name, A Litany.

Eventually, Sherlock masters the art of a snog-and-grope without coming in his pants.

Tonight, he's laid out on the couch, John's body covering him with a soft pressure. They're kissing passionately, tongue to tongue, their dicks rubbing through the thin fabrics of both their pants. Between kisses, Sherlock moans and breathes John's name. Sherlock actually becomes more vociferous in time, once he stops being too overwhelmed by newness to truly vocalize his enjoyment. 

Sherlock breaks away, voice heavy with want, and pants out, “John. I'm ready. I want you...your mouth.” With John's patience and encouragement, Sherlock has become better at saying what he wants without as much shyness or embarrassment. And they've talked about this. About how John has no experience in giving a blow job, but has the desire to try, if or when Sherlock becomes ready.

John grins, eyes lighting up. He loves Sherlock, loves all they've done and continue to do. But he has a special place in his heart, and his fantasies, for anything they do for the first time. Sherlock is always hyper-sensitive at first, before he becomes used to the new feelings of something. And John has longed to do this for a long time, since before they began this new phase in their relationship. 

“Sher,” he breathes, “I'd love to. But, I think we need to take this to the bedroom.” He carefully wriggles off Sherlock, puts his legs on the floor, and stands. He holds out his hand to help Sherlock up. Sherlock takes it, and they don't let go until they're at the side of their bed. They break apart so Sherlock can take of his pants, and shimmy onto the centre of the bed. John takes off his pants as well, and follows Sherlock. 

John settles into a straddle on Sherlock's knees, good arm bracing his front up a bit, his mouth hovering above Sherlock's erection. Before John starts anything, Sherlock raises up onto his elbows, looks John in the eyes and says, “Can you, when you...I want you to come, too.” 

“Alright, Love,” agrees John. “Ready?”

Sherlock thumps back down onto the bed, and breathing out, “Yes, John. Please.”

So John takes hold at the base of Sherlock's penis, and licks a stripe starting from his fingers to the top of Sherlock's glans. Sherlock gasps in a breath, then moans on the exhale. 

John carefully tucks his lips over his teeth, and sucks the tip into his mouth. This has Sherlock making a “Ngggnnnn” sound. John manages not to giggle. Instead, he pushes his tongue up under Sherlock's corona, and sucks lightly as he moves his lips down over the shaft. 

Head now thrown to the side, Sherlock moans encouragement. 

John pulls his mouth almost all the way off, licking around the head, then sucks his way back down. Sherlock moans again, this time a drawn out “Johhhhnn.”

The next time up, John does move his mouth away from Sherlock, just long enough to ask “Is it ok if I...” and thrusts a tiny bit in-between Sherlock's legs. 

“Yes, brilliant, John.”

John goes back to sucking slowly down Sherlock's erection, going a bit further now. At the same time, he thrusts, penis rubbing in the trough of Sherlock's thighs. 

John continues bobbing his head, taking more in bit by bit, until he's as far down as he can go. He makes it a good four inches before Sherlock's tip is tickling the his soft palate, only two fingers away from the base. 

Sherlock is gasping and moaning on every breath now. John speeds the movement of his head a bit, moves his hips in a matching cadence. He tries to keep a grunt of pleasure inside, but it comes out as a guttural moan. Sherlock's breath catches at the vibration. John, typically not that expressive, tries to let go of his reticence. Soon, he joins Sherlock in moaning his joy, as he sucks up and slides down Sherlock's shaft. The added sensations has Sherlock clutching the sheets and arching his neck.

Finally, Sherlock rumbles out a warning, “John, I'm close.” John just keeps his motion going. Realizing John's intent, Sherlock's whole body shudders. Over and over, he repeats John's name, a litany, voice breaking as he comes. 

John swallows as Sherlock jerks beneath him, grinds his hips, and echoes an orgasm in response.


	12. A Litany of Love.

John's mouth is on Sherlock's dick when Sherlock gasps something out between the little moans he's making, "I want you to finger me."

 

John pauses in mid suck. His body has already picked up what Sherlock is saying because John's dick twitches and is suddenly, impossibly more hard. Then his brain kicks in. He pulls his off to ask Sherlock if he's sure, if he's ready, but then thinks _This is Sherlock_ and _I trust Sherlock_.

 

Then Sherlock finds his hand and grasps it, all but begging when he asks, "Please?"

 

So John simply asks, "You'll use your safe-word if you need to?" He trusts Sherlock, but still, he doesn't want to hurt him, hurt this fragile new thing that they have.

 

Sherlock nods, panting. Johns nods back, consenting, so Sherlock lets go of John's hand to turn slightly and reach over himself to find the slick he'd stashed for when the time came.

 

John giggles, but stops when their hands touch for the lube hand off. He finds Sherlock's eyes with his and Sherlock's are bright and serious, pupils wide. But, John sees, Sherlock's mouth is crooked up into a half smile from watching John in turn. _I must look at turned on as I feel_ , John thinks.

 

"Do you want me to..." he looks down at Sherlock's dick and back up, finishes, "...it might help you relax."

 

"It might also help me finish before we've started" Sherlock says, and he voice is bass and gravel.

 

 _Right_. John grabs a pillow and says "Lift up," then tucks it under Sherlock's arse. He enjoys the little confusion furrows this puts in-between Sherlock's eyes. To smooth them out he says, "It'll help position you for...um...a better angle." Sherlock's erection twitches a little at the thought and John's answering smile is somehow feral and protective all at once.

 

Then it's John's slicked finger brushing Sherlock's arse hole. That makes Sherlock lay his head back with a little puff of breath. One slick finger, massaging gently around in a circle, starting away from the center and swirling in until it touches Sherlock's pucker. Sherlock takes a shaky breath, but john doesn't go inside, only does it again. And again. And again. Somehow John is relaxing the muscle under his finger while winding up the rest of Sherlock.

 

Sherlock makes a tiny mewling sound of frustration and need, and only then, finally, does John dip in, just slightly and then stop in that position while Sherlock's arse hole flutters a bit. It's Sherlock's body trying to resist, but the rest of Sherlock trying to open for John.

 

When Sherlock relaxes, John retracts his finger just that little bit, and Sherlock makes a complaint sound. But then John pushes gently back in, just a bit farther, and that sound becomes a small moan.

 

John does it again a few times, going in infinitesimally farther every time, to get Sherlock relaxed and ready. He withdraws completely to put on more slick, and then in he goes again. This time when John pushes his finger back in, it goes deeper, and Sherlock makes a closed mouthed whining noise. He's so far gone, gasping his breaths already, hands fisted in sheet, head thrown to the side, eyes closed. John moans at the sight of what he's doing to Sherlock and pushes deeper. When he's finally, gloriously all way in Sherlock is squirming slightly.

 

"John," Sherlock says, sounding fucked out already, "Please."

"What love? What do you need?"

"More."

 

So john curls his finger up ward, making Sherlock whine deep in his throat.

 

"Like this?" John asks.

"Yes..." Sherlock breathes out, "...Yes."

 

John wiggles and curls and pumps his finger until Sherlock is sweating.

 

Then he pulls out, slicks up a second finger, and pushes part way back in. It's still a bit of a stretch, even though Sherlock is so, so into this.

 

When John's fingers finally bottom out to the last knuckle he curls his fingers, and Sherlock arches his back, his heaving chest going sky wards.

 

On the third curl, john carefully brushes Sherlock's prostate. All the breath leaves Sherlock's lungs then rushes back in. John smiles, watching Sherlock's face crease with pleasure.

 

From then on John keeps up a relentless pace of pumping, curling, and light prostate massage.

Sherlock is tossing his head, sweat soaked hair sticking to his forehead, as he bits his lip around gasps, arches his back. He moans Johns name again and again, a pleasure soaked litany. He's almost over-loaded with sensation but still can't come.

 

"John... John ...John... need... more... John... more.."

 

So john adds a third finger. Just as John is brushing his fingers once more on, and now around, Sherlock's prostate, Sherlock starts coming.

 

Everything goes bright and silent for Sherlock as the pleasure crashes through him in fast waves. John does his best to keep moving his fingers as Sherlock orgasms wildly, arching, thrashing his head, crying out again and again, as his arse clamps and flutters so tight so hot around John's fingers. John slows, and then stops just before Sherlock collapses back, heaving and spent.

 

John comes while watching Sherlock's violent pleasure, as they each stripe their own stomachs with pearl. Or in Sherlock's case, also part of his chest, and even an errant curl.

 

John gently pulls out, earning a mewling whine and a shudder from Sherlock. He cleans his fingers in the sink, washes up with a flannel. Then brings wet flannels to clean Sherlock. He washes the damp hair off of Sherlock's face and cleans the rest of him. Tosses the dirty flannels and the pillow, which is now askew next to Sherlock, in the hamper, then collapses next to Sherlock. Sherlock, who is just now coming around, who looks at John and laughs his deep chuckle. John giggles in response, and budges up so he's next to Sherlock. Sherlock rolls over and wiggles back, until they are spooning. They fall asleep that way, tired and sated, and very much in love.

 


	13. Sherlock's Name A Litany.

They're at a crime scene, police bustling around.

Sherlock's hands are moving in complicated patterns as he deduces at Lestrade.

Normally, John loves this bit, watching Sherlock, animated, with bright eyes. But he's been up for two days and the let-down is starting. He yawns hugely. 

A new guy, standing next to him, leers, "Up late with your girlfriend?"

In his peripheral vision, John sees Sherlock stop his hands and look at him sharply. They haven't talked about this, if Sherlock wants to go public. John does, wants to tell everyone they see that he's with the most wonderful person ever. 

He slides his eyes to Sherlock's to check, and there is uncertainty there. John decides it's about whether John will say anything, not ambivalence. It makes his heart hurt a little, so he makes a decision. 

"Boyfriend, actually," John says crisply. He turns, Sherlock's name a litany on his lips, and takes one of Sherlock's still upraised hands to kiss. Sherlock only blushes a moment, gives John a look of gratitude, and once John releases him, continues gesturing and deducing. 

By tomorrow all of the Yard will be buzzing with this new conformation, many bets cashed in. John finds he's glad.


	14. And His Sigh Is A Litany.

They finally get home, and John gets Sherlock to eat with him before they both get undressed, and crash out in bed. 

John wakes to the sight of a naked, hard, Sherlock, face lit up from his phone as he reads. They both sleep nude these days, Sherlock says it simpler to have morning sex that way. John knows Sherlock loves to do things after he wakes up, but he suspects that Sherlock also likes waking up to John's erection. 

"Hey" John says, still groggy and humid from sleep. 

"John," Sherlock replies, turning toward him and putting his phone down. "You're awake, good. I've been doing some reading." 

When he doesn't go on, John prompts, "About?"

"How to pleasure you." Sherlock says, shyly triumphant.

Confused, John asks, "How do you mean?" They've already established that Sherlock is a bottom and his confused brain isn't supplying any other answers.

"By giving you a blow job." Sherlock continues, "I'd like us to try a sixty-nine."

John is taken aback by the frank terminology. It must show on his face because Sherlock says "I do know about sex, John. I have the internet. I'm just not that experienced. Or haven't been, before you." He smiles at that last bit. 

Well, he did once say "Sex doesn't alarm me," John thinks. He smiles and queries, “Have you thought about the logistics?” Sherlock translates this to mean who would be on top, and answers, “I figure we'd both lay down, on our sides.” He looks proud to have found a way around the conundrum. 

John smiles, says “Sounds Good. But what about when we're going to orgasm?” 

Sherlock frowns in concentration, thinking. “What if we...tap each other on the leg?”

Still smiling, John says, “It looks like you have it all figured out, Love.” 

When he doesn't say anything else, Sherlock looks at him hopefully. 

John cottons on, asks, "What, now?" 

Sherlock nods, says unsurely "If you don't mind.” 

"Alright, Love. Now.” John says, voice a husky baritone. 

Face lit up with excitement, Sherlock says, “Stay there.” He turns off his phone, puts it away, and then scrambles around, curling so that he's facing John's hard dick. Now that he's here, he doesn't know where to begin. Oh, he knows academically, but not how to get from here to there.

Then, John's fondling him. He follows that lead, and takes John into his hand, rubbing slowly from bottom to tip. John huffs a breath on his erection, making his shiver. He hadn't known John's face was that close. 

They've done this bit before, mutual fondling, so Sherlock is on solid ground again.

When the top part of John's penis is slicked with precome, Sherlock guides the tip to his mouth, and tentatively licks. John makes a close-mouthed groan, so Sherlock does it again, this time boldly licking around the corona. John takes this for permission, and puts his tongue on Sherlock, copying him. It's Sherlock's turn to breathe onto John's erection. 

John retaliates by sucking the tip of Sherlock's dick into his mouth. Sherlock moans, focuses, and happily imitates John's actions. This, too, is familiar, following John's lead in the bedroom. 

John pulls off to lick a broad stripe from root to tip. Sherlock moans, does the same to John, who makes a low pleasure noise.

Soon they have a system going of licks and shallow sucks. John's the first one stop licking, and instead, deepen how much of Sherlock's penis is engulfed in his mouth. 

Sherlock follows suit, making sure his tongue is under John's corona and shaft. John is thick enough to already be a mouthful. His gag reflex is weak, but even so, he doesn’t know how much he'll be able to take. So, he makes sure that the wetness left over from his mouth gets caught up in his fist, and pumps slowly along while he goes down. 

Sherlock takes his time making his way down John's shaft, a couple of centimetres at a time, jaw stretched wide to accommodate.

John's had more practice time now at giving Sherlock a blow job, so he takes him deeper than that first time, all the way to the back of his throat. 

In contrast, by the time John's tip is brushing the middle of Sherlock's soft palate, he's still almost a fist away. But John is groaning now almost as much as Sherlock is moaning, and they're both shivering from the vibrations. 

They continue for awhile, each at their own rhythm.

 

When Sherlock gets close, he signals like they'd discussed, but John, as per usual, doesn't pull away. Sherlock's orgasm coasts into him and he cries out around John's penis. Hearing, tasting, and feeling Sherlock come has John almost there. 

He pulls his mouth away from Sherlock's rapidly member before he over-stimulates him, urgently taps Sherlock's twitching leg, and groans out, “I'm coming!” for good measure. Sherlock pulls off a bit, and sucks. John's orgasm rips through him, and he growls Sherlock's name. 

Sherlock hastens to swallow as John spurts. When John's dick is done pulsing in Sherlock's mouth, he slowly pulls away. 

John's come still on his lips, Sherlock's sighs Johns name, and his sigh is a litany.


	15. A Litany of Kisses.

They're snogging on the end of the couch again. Sherlock, naked and damp from his shower, is sitting astride John's lap, bum rubbing over John's pants-covered erection. John's hands are on his back. When Sherlock's hips start to go staccato, he pulls his mouth away, puts his arms up under John's to grip the back of his shirt, and lays his head on John's good shoulder. 

John waits for a breathless Sherlock to find his equilibrium again, then starts talking. “There's something I've been thinking about us doing...” He pauses, the uncertain one for once.

Sherlock lifts his head up to look John in the eyes, urges, “Go on.”

John hesitantly says “Well, if you want to...in your internet...have you heard of anilingus?”

Sherlock's eyes go wide, pupils dilating, and he breathes, “John.” 

Encouraged, John takes his reaction as 'not repulsed by the idea', and prompts, “Well?”

Sherlock colours a light rose, as he says. “I've...thought about it, too.”

“When were you going to say something?”

“I don't know. I didn't know if you... Some consider anilingus kinky.”

John smiles, “Ah. Well. I'm open to a lot of things I haven't done yet. I actually haven't wanted to do this before, but now that it's you I'd get to do it with...”

Face gone soft, Sherlock smiles. He's now grown sure of John's love and desire, so he doesn't need the evidence anymore, however he still immensely enjoys it. 

He mentally shakes himself, surmises, “And you've brought it up now because I’ve just taken a shower. Some people feel more comfortable with the process if they've recently bathed.” 

John's smile transmutes into the “Sherlock is being brilliant” grin he gets when Sherlock is deducing, and confirms, “Right. But we don't have to do this now.” 

Sherlock hastens to awkwardly say “No, I'd like to. If you want to. Now, that is.”

In answer, John puts a hand on the back of Sherlock's head and starts to kiss him again. He begins slow, but builds until they're back up to enthusiastic. Sherlock is so into it that he doesn't notice John pull his other hand away from his back to grab the cushion and place it next to them on the couch.

Just as Sherlock starts to wonder if John has changed his mind, both of John's hands are suddenly sliding down Sherlock's back until they're griping his waist. John picks him up, turns, and deposits him on the waiting cushion. Then, one of John's hands is on his back again, one on his chest, gently guiding him to lay back onto the couch. John somehow shifts as they go, so that their mouths stay on each other the whole time.

John's rubs his erection on Sherlock's, and Sherlock finally understands, this is foreplay. He brings brings both legs up around John's sides in preparation for later.

John only pulls away when Sherlock is moaning into his mouth. Then, he starts a trail of kisses starting from the corner of Sherlock's lips, down his jaw, to his neck. John pauses to suck small bruises there, making Sherlock moan and buck.

Eventually, John moves on, back to gentle kisses, across Sherlock's clavicle, down his sternum. He pauses again, this time to suck Sherlock's nipple between firm lips. Sherlock gasps, surprised at the sharp bolt of pleasure. John moves his mouth, only to go to Sherlock's other nipple, earning him another gasp. When he pulls away, Sherlock whimpers in disappointment. 

But John is continuing kissing down Sherlock's body and that's good, that's wanted. 

When John gets to Sherlock's penis, he sucks a kiss on the tip. Sherlock is squirming now underneath him. John's voice has gone baritone when he growls “Hold your self open for me?” Sherlock shudders from the command in John's voice and does as asked, hands moving to the sides of his bum. John gently sucks a litany of kisses across Sherlock's erection and down his perineum, stopping just before his pucker. 

Sherlock is breathing rapidly above him, dick leaking in need. John decides he wants to be the one with his hands on Sherlock's bum, so he orders, “Put your hands up and grip the arm of the couch.”

Sherlock quivers and does, feeling gloriously exposed when John again separates his cheeks.

John takes a minute to just look, watching Sherlock's arsehole shake. He deliberately breathes on it, watches it purse as Sherlock makes a noise above him. John does it again, then gently touches the tip of his tongue to the middle. Sherlock's air leaves him and rushes back in. John smiles hungrily, and his tongue is back, this time as a firm lick from bottom to top. Sherlock makes a strong noise, some where between a moan and a word. 

Whatever Sherlock is trying to say gets lost as John starts a pace of sucking kisses around, and licking on, Sherlock's pucker. All of Sherlock is shaking now, face buried in his arm, fingers digging into the far side of the couch arm. 

Then John's tongue is going in and that's exquisite, has Sherlock moaning John's name explosively. John changes his pattern to broad laving and pointed penetration. 

Sherlock is making noise almost non-stop now between ragged breaths. 

John continues his method for a bit, before Sherlock moans a drawn out word into his own arm. It takes John a couple of seconds to figure out his name, muffled as it was. Then Sherlock moves his head a little and moans something else, “I neeeeeed. Johhhhhhhn. Touuuuuuch meeeee? Pleeeeeeeath.” 

Inside, John wonders, Since when does Sherlock have a lisp? John moves away slightly and says, “You have to help me hold you open then, Love.” Sherlock reaches down with his trembling left hand and takes his bum cheek from John. 

John resumes the interrupted lick, and reaches up with his right hand to stroke Sherlock's erection from the root to corona, fingers skating over the slippery tip. 

Sherlock is back to wordless moaning as John's hand catches the rhythm of his mouth. 

It doesn't take long of the duel stimulation for Sherlock. A few stokes and he is shuddering violently and yelling John's name as he comes, hole quaking around John's tongue, dick pulsing in John's hand.

*

Sherlock stays prone, muscles still shaking a bit, while John goes to get flannels. 

When John gets back, he kneels by the couch, waves away Sherlock's would be helpful hand, “I like this bit, taking care of you,” he says. 

After he's done he gets up and sits next to Sherlock's bum, asks “Since when do you have a lisp?”. Sherlock blinks while he replays the past few minutes. Ah. He frowns in consternation and says slowly, “Not since I was a child. I usually have a better grasp on it now.” 

John giggles at his look. “I like it,” he says. 

“You do?” Sherlock asks inelegantly.

John's voice is back to baritone when he says, “It means you've relaxed, that I've made you completely come undone.”

Sherlock shivers both at John's tone and his assessment. He's known since John pulled rank at Baskerville that he likes John showing dominance. Although he'd used it in some of his fantasies of John, he didn't know how much he enjoyed it until earlier when John did it to him. Now, seeing dominant and assured John, well, if he wasn't so wrung out already, he might be very interested in repeating some things. As it is, he struggles to regain even breaths again, and smiles at John. John smiles back. They stay there for awhile, talking, before going about their day.


	16. A Litany of Skin.

Some time later...

* * *

 

It's a lie-in day, both of them lazy after a couple days spent up on an investigation, and the consequent crash into dreamland. Sherlock gets more sleep now since John's move into their now shared room. Sherlock has taken to sleeping nude again, once he and John started having mutual orgasms. John gets to see, and touch, that beautiful form often now.

This morning finds Sherlock sprawled on his back a little ways away, gazing at the ceiling. His naked body is laid out in front of John, a litany of skin. John is on his side, listening to him talk about the case they just had. John still has an erection. It started from the one he woke up with, but transmuted to one born of lust for the brilliant man in front of him. He doesn't say anything, just watches Sherlock's hands wave in the air as he recounts his deductions. 

When Sherlock is finished, there is a comfortable lull in the conversation. He turns his head to look at John, does one of his quick once overs, sees John's interest in other matters, and smiles. “John.  
I've been thinking...I want to have sex with you.”

“Isn't that what we've been doing?” John asks, voice baritone, at the bottom of his register.

Sherlock shivers at the sound, but waves away John's amusement. “Not like...I want to feel you...inside me.” 

Suddenly serious, John says “Alright, Love. I'd like that, too.”

When John makes no sign of moving, Sherlock continues, “I want to now, John.”

John measures Sherlock with a probing look. “You know I'm not just going to dive in, right? There needs to be some prep since it's your first time.” 

Sherlock frowns, “But you've been fingering me often.” 

“Doesn't matter. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm above average size.”

Sherlock most definitely has noticed. John's superior length and girth has been the main reason Sherlock was previously hesitant. He remembers back to how much trouble he had giving him a blow job and belatedly agrees with John's assessment. “How do we start, then?” 

John notices that Sherlock's penis has become half mast from just talking about what they are going to do. Good, he thinks. Out loud he says, “It'll go more easily if you're aroused.”

Sherlock gives him a Look that clearly says arouse me. John smiles again, and scoots closer to Sherlock. 

Sherlock breathes deeply in anticipation, lets out a sigh as John touches him. John' gently fondles Sherlock's dick and balls, watches as his penis lengthens, as the tip pokes out from his foreskin. John rubs and squeezes until Sherlock is shivering with want. 

“Slick?” John prompts.

Sherlock leans over to get it, hands it to john.

John grabs a pillow and Sherlock eagerly bends his knees and lifts his bum off the bed. Pillow safely ensconced, Sherlock draws his legs up to his chest. He hears the cap on the slick flip open and waits impatiently for John to get into position.

John still manages to take Sherlock by surprise when he simultaneously touches his pucker with a slick finger and sucks his glans into wet heat. Sherlock bucks a little, which John was ready for. He lets the motion push part of Sherlock's shaft over his waiting tongue. Sherlock then wiggles his bum backward against John's finger. John takes the hint, and pushes in a bit. Sherlock is practiced now at relaxing and opening for John, so John's finger goes in easily to his first knuckle. Sherlock sighs in contentment. John starts to wiggle and pump his finger while licking around Sherlock's corona. 

“John, more,” breathes Sherlock. 

John grunts his acknowledgment, just to make Sherlock moan. The next time pushes in, he goes to the next knuckle.

Sherlock squirms impatiently at the teasing nature of the dual sensations. “John, more,” he repeats.

John is still only barely going down Sherlock's dick, just enough to tease and inflame. But John smiles around Sherlock's cock and otherwise does as prompted, slipping his finger all the way in. Sure in what has become familiar, John waits just long enough for Sherlock to relax his muscles, then slowly adds a second finger. This time, he pumps and scissors, stretching Sherlock further. 

By the time John is three fingers in, Sherlock is sweating. Three fingers are the furthest they've ever gone, but Sherlock's going to need four before they attempt sex. 

John stays at three for awhile, careful to avoid Sherlock's prostate, until Sherlock is writhing beneath him. “John,” Sherlock pants out, “I need. I can...”

The sound of Sherlock's wrung out voice has John's erection twitching between his legs. But once again, he does as asked. First he pulls his fingers out all the way, slicks up all four fingers before carefully pressing the tips in. Sherlock chokes on a moan and arches a bit. That pushes his bum back onto John's fingers, causing them to slip in a bit further. The air leaves Sherlock's lungs in a huff and he inhales sharply. John goes too pull his mouth away to ask Sherlock if he's alright, but Sherlock, even this far gone, deduces John's intent and interrupts, “Fine. I'm fine. Don't thtop. Keep going. Pleathe.”

In answer, he pulls his fingers out a bit, and pushes gently back in. It's slow going, but John keeps up a steady pace of pulling and pushing and twisting. Sherlock's gasps, moans out John's name. 

John's fingers are almost all the way in when Sherlock shudders and says urgently, “Your mouth, John, too much, I'm going to come.” John quickly lifts his mouth off. He stills his hand inside Sherlock, feels Sherlock flutter around him, as he fights for breath and composure. 

When Sherlock's breath starts to even out, he suggests, “Alright, you can move now.” 

John pulls almost all the way out, drips some more slick on, and pushes back in. Sherlock's body finally gives, and he's suddenly in to the last knuckles. Shaking, Sherlock wails out John's name. It sounds almost pained, so John hurriedly asks, “You alright? Do I need to move?” 

“No, don't move!” Sherlock calls out loudly. In a more typical volume he adds, “Ith good. Just...give me a moment.” 

He gives himself time to adjust and catch his breath, before continuing, “Alright. I'm alright.” John wiggles his fingers inside Sherlock, barely brushing his prostate, making him exclaim “OH! JOHN!” John grins ferally, groans out “Sher,” and does it again. 

He picks up a rhythm of slow pumping, and watches Sherlock all but come undone on just this.

Finally, Sherlock's body relaxes around him. John, voice gone deep into baritone, asks, “You ready?”

Sherlock nods emphatically, breathing out, “Yes. John. Pleathe.” John loves the way Sherlock says please, lisping and all but begging. 

He pulls out all the way and slicks up his impressive erection. Then, bracing himself with his good arm, he covers Sherlock's body with his own, grounding him, making him shudder. 

John reaches down with his free hand to guide his dick to Sherlock's entrance. Sherlock is still a bit tight, so he goes slowly, just teasing the head inside. He pauses like that, waiting for Sherlock to adjust.

When Sherlock's breath calms, he tells John, “I can take more now.”

John pulls out the tiniest bit, and pushes back in, going couple centimetres. Sherlock moans at the thrill of being slowly filled. He nods, so John does it again. 

Another small wait, another nod, and John repeats the action, going another couple centimetres. 

It takes a bunch of pauses and three additional applications of slick, but finally, with a choked moan from Sherlock, he bottoms out. 

Sherlock is a glorious sight underneath John, shivering, sweating, chest heaving, head arched to the side, and John hasn't even begun to properly move yet. He moans Sherlock's name and waits. 

After a teasingly long wait, Sherlock, voice wrecked already, says, “Alright. You can...”

John gladly moves, pulling almost all the way out, to push slowly but firmly back in. Sherlock cries out, “JOHN!” John goes to still his hips but Sherlock cries out again, “NO DON'T THTOP!” John listens and keeps the slow pace. 

 

With John's huge dick is gloriously filling Sherlock's insides, and rubbing his prostate on each pass, Sherlock is drowning in sensation. His arse is throbbing, it almost hurts but it's a good and wanted stretch. He never wants it to end. He finds John's back with his hands, fingers flexing, nails biting flesh as he instinctively scratches.

John groans above him, grinds his hips into Sherlock, who wails again, this time in wordless pleasure.

Its not long until Sherlock gasps in surprise, muscles griping John in tight heat. John thrusts one last time, then Sherlock is undulating beneath him, as the orgasm slams through him. Sherlock yells John's name as he comes. John tips over as well, growling out Sherlock's name.

When Sherlock regains his senses, John is smoothing his hair, murmuring endearments and praise. Sherlock, vulnerable after his spectacular orgasm, feels his eyes start to fill with tears at the love in John's voice, and lets the wetness spill over. John notices, says “Hey. There you are, Love. Are you alright?”

Sherlock nods faintly, enjoying the attention. John continues, “Love, I need to pull out. Do you want me to wait?” Sherlock pauses to catalogue the input from his spent and tired body. His voice is a hoarse whisper when he replies, “Go ahead”

John gently slips out, leaving Sherlock to whine brokenly at the emptiness.

John shifts a little and Sherlock, thinking he's going to get up, quickly begs, “Thtay?” John softens and replies “Of course, Love. As long as you need.”

Once Sherlock stops shaking and is otherwise calms, he says, voice wrecked to gravel, “I'd love to help clean up, but I don't think I can move yet.” 

John smiles protectively, says “That's alright, Love. Let me take care of you.” He slowly gets up to get the flannels.

*

Exhausted, Sherlock manages to turn on his side. John climbs back in bed and gathers Sherlock in his arms, places a kiss on his head. He listens to Sherlock's breathing slow to sleep for a much needed nap, and lets slumber catch him as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you KittieHill for graciously agreeing to Britpick. This is now edited now for typos and too many "dick"s. Any remaining problems are my own. I'm just starting out as a writer, what you see in my works page is what I've done, and this is my first chaptered fic. Concrit welcome.
> 
> If you want to read anything I haven't covered in this fic, I'm writing a (more kinky) sequel. I would appreciate suggestions, either in comments here, or in my tumblr ask box (geekinprocess), which has anon on if you need. My Sherlock tumblr is unionjackawesomepants and should have anon on.
> 
> Also, the sequel will not have a recurring theme like "Litany" in this one. I'm writing it now and can't figure out how to put a word or phrase in that won't be too derivative of "Litany". 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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